Giving Up
by casey26334
Summary: Death Eaters have broken into Hogwarts and Harry takes his chance. He's tired of the war, he knows he will never defeat the Dark Lord. Honestly? He just wants to be with his parents again. Will The-Boy-Who-Lived finally surrender? Will he finally embrace death? Short story. Currently a three-shot. Rated T for brief language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This intentionally short. I have the story all written out, but this seemed to be a good place to stop for the first chapter before we ventured into the actual plot. Hope you all enjoy!**

Various colors of light were flashing around him. Spells ricocheting off of the people and walls surrounding him. Yelling and screaming could be heard coming from both sides of the battle. He saw his friends- Dumbledore's Army- fighting against the Death Eaters that had somehow managed to break into Hogwarts. It was ironic how he had worked so hard to train them and now…

He knew they were fighting a losing battle. A losing war. The only way the Light would win is if he himself murdered Voldemort and Harry knew it wasn't going to happen. There was no way he, a mere teenager with only a few years of magical training, could defeat a wizard with decades of skill, practice, and knowledge. Harry was aware that Voldemort had dedicated years upon years to learning new branches of magic, some of which were almost extinct. There was no way Harry could duel him and actually have a chance. In his fourth year he got lucky, lucky that his parents had shown up to protect him- again. He couldn't be sure that would happen once more.

He knew what he had to do. Who he had to find. It would be nice to finally get to be with his parents again…

Harry took off running, down to the dungeons where he knew he would be. 'Probably hiding,' Harry thought as he rolled his eyes. Deflecting curses as he went, he ran down flight after flight of stairs until finally he reached the entrance of the Slytherin common room. He paused at the entrance, realizing he would have to guess the password.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

Harry smirked before turning around. "Knew you would be down here hiding Malfoy." With his wand pointed at Harry, Draco ignored the question. "I… I need you to do me a favor Draco."

The use of his first name took Draco off guard for a moment. It had always been 'Potter' and 'Malfoy' with them. "A favor? Why would I do a favor for the likes of you?"

"Because you'd be an idiot not to." Draco stood silently, waiting for Harry to continue. "I need you to take me to your… your _Master_," Harry said with disgust.

"What?"

"I need you to take me to Voldemort."

"Are you mad? You'll be killed in an instant."

"…..I know," Harry quietly said.

Draco slowly lowered his wand, he knew something was wrong. "What are you doing?"

"Look, I just need you to take me to Voldemort. You'll be rewarded. You'll be bringing the Dark Lord The-Boy-Who-Lived. He'll be thrilled with you."

Draco pondered for a moment before simply stating, "He will kill you."

"Just do it."

Draco raised his wand towards Harry once more and Harry's world went blank.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry slowly came back into consciousness. His eyes gradually opened and he saw stone moving beneath him. He stared at the ground… not yet fully aware of his own body. Gradually he became more alert to his surroundings… There were two people on either side of him who had strong holds on his arms while his feet dragged along the stone beneath him. His limp body was being hauled through cold grey corridors. He slowly raised his head.

"You awake Potter?" Harry heard Draco sneer from behind him.

Harry cleared his throat before speaking. "I came willingly… you really didn't have to stun me," He heard Draco scoff. Feeling more alert, Harry got his feet under him and looked around. He had no idea where they were. As they continued to walk, the long stone corridors seemed endless. The walls were grey with paintings of what he assumed were long deceased witches and wizards, and the curtains were a sickening shade of Slytherin green.

Harry tried to yank his arms from the two men on his sides. "Is it really necessary to hold me _that_ tightly?!" Harry said to the men who he assumed were Death Eaters by the looks of it. "You can let go. I came on my own, I'm not going to run." No response. Their grasps didn't falter.

Finally they rounded a corner and came face to face with a wide pair of dark wooden doors. Draco stepped forward, pushing the doors open, and led the way into the room.

There were about twenty people inside the room, huddled in groups quietly talking with one another. One by one they turned, noticing with shocked faces at who was being led into the room. Suddenly the room burst into commotion as the Death Eaters voiced their questions as to what was going on. The sea of black parted as Harry was roughly led to the other side of the rather large meeting room. He saw a high-backed chair that looked much like a throne sitting empty against the wall. Harry hardly had time to register these few observations before a sudden hush fell over the crowd of people. Harry felt a painful tingle in his forehead where the legendary lightning bolt scar lay as a chorus of _My Lord_'s echoed throughout the room.

Harry was abruptly spun around and came face to face with the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort froze, staring at the boy. All was silent for a few long moments as the Death Eaters watched as Harry and Voldemort stared at one another. It was the first time that Harry had actually gotten a chance to look at Voldemort in his snake-like form, or at least, without having to dodge curses and spells in the process. Voldemort was a tall man, Harry noted, and much too thin. The intense crimson eyes reminded Harry of Muggle lasers, as he was sure Voldemort could cut right through him with his gaze. Slowly, Voldemort's flat face broke out into a giant grin, the kind of grin that made Harry's insides squirm.

"Well hello there Harry…" Voldemort pleasantly drawled, "It has been much too long."

Harry had to fight not to roll his eyes at the overwhelmingly pleased expression on the Dark Lord's face. Harry opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted.

"My Lord, I am the one who brought Harry here today." Harry turned his head towards Draco, whose head was bowed low in submission.

"Is that so, Draco?" Voldemort asked. He had yet to take his eyes off Harry.

"Yes My Lord. It was during the battle, and I- I saw him running through the castle and followed him. We dueled and I got the opportunity to stun him. I knew you would want to kill him yourself My Lord. I hope you are pleased."

Draco made Harry want to vomit. "Oh shove off will you Malfoy." Harry turned to Voldemort. "I came here myself. I asked him to bring me here. To you."

There was a flicker of surprise on Voldemort's face before it was quickly replaced by his usual composure. "Is that true Draco?"

"I- no, no of course not My Lord. I-"

"Oh will you STOP!" Harry shot towards the young Malfoy.

"It- it's not true! I went after him during the batt-" Draco was silenced as Voldemort's wand slashed through the air, and Harry felt slight appreciation towards the Dark Lord.

"Why have you come here Harry? Why have you decided to make your murder so much easier for me?"

"I- I want to talk to you," Harry said lamely as he heard a few snickers from the Death Eaters behind him.

"You wish to speak with me?" Voldemort said with a tone of surprise. "Well then speak boy! What could The-Boy-Who-Lived possibly want to have a discussion about?"

Harry winced at the nickname.

"What, do you not enjoy that name? The-Boy-Who-Lived? That is you, is it not? The baby who almost destroyed the Great Dark Lord…" Voldemort said, his voice laced with disgust. Harry remained quiet, trying to keep his anger in check. He hated when people called him that, and Voldemort could sense Harry's irritation at the name. "No? Well, how about the _Savior of the Light_?"

Oh how he _loathed_ that name. "Stop." _Savior. _He was no savior.

"Oh come now Harry. You're a _hero_. You're supposed to rescue the _entire_ Wizarding World… and a mighty _Gryffindor_ at that-"

"Stop."

"Does it bother you Harry?" Voldemort whispered mockingly as he began slowly walking towards the boy. "Do those names bother you, Golden Boy?" Harry was silent. They had always bothered him. He despised those names. Voldemort was getting closer to the boy who was still being held by the two Death Eaters. "Hm?"

"Please stop." Harry said quietly.

"I never expected the Light's Savior to be so… subdued." Voldemort said as he bent down so that his face was level with Harry's.

"I'm no hero." Harry whispered as he looked down.

Voldemort slowly and gently placed his hand on Harry's head, brushing his hair away from the lightning bolt scar. "No. I think not." Voldemort said quietly.

Surprisingly the touch didn't hurt like Harry had expected it to. He realized that his scar had not hurt for the last few minutes actually…

Voldemort stood back to his full height and looked calculatingly down at Harry, whose eyes never left the cold stone floor.

"Out." Harry raised his head, almost thinking that Voldemort had been speaking with him. "I wish to speak with Mr. Potter alone."


	3. Chapter 3

_Voldemort stood back to his full height and looked calculatingly down at Harry, whose eyes never left the cold stone floor._

"_Out." Harry raised his head, almost thinking that Voldemort had been speaking with him. "I wish to speak with Mr. Potter alone."_

* * *

No one moved, it was like everyone in the room had been in a trance watching what would happen between the enemies.

"_Out I said!"_

Harry jumped as Voldemort roared the instruction to the stunned Death Eaters and immediately they began disapparating into thick black billows. Harry turned his head in time to see Draco, still standing silenced and looking hopeful at the Dark Lord- like he expected a reward of some kind. Not receiving any acknowledgement, Draco quickly disapparated with the rest of the Death Eaters.

It took a moment for Harry to realize that the two men who had been so forcefully grasping onto his arms were now gone, and he was free to move about. He rubbed his sore forearms, sure that there would be bruises in the shapes of meaty fingers there tomorrow.

When Harry looked up, he met the crimson eyes of the Dark Lord. Voldemort was examining Harry with an attentive expression, as if he were attempting to solve an unspoken riddle. Harry met the eyes of his enemy, _Savior?_, but after a few moments turned away from the penetrating gaze. They stood in silence, Voldemort unmoving as Harry squirmed awkwardly.

"What're you looking at?!" Harry blurted out abruptly, slightly flustered over being studied so intensely.

Voldemort stood unaffected by the boy's outburst and ignored Harry's question. "You said you wished to speak with me." Speechless for a moment after the deflection, Harry stared at Voldemort. "Well?" Voldemort pushed.

Harry took a deep breath. He knew deep down he was betraying his friends, his school, but- but not really. They would understand. Hopefully.

He knew they wouldn't.

"I-"Harry paused, knowing this was it. Defeated, he said, "I- I just- I can't do this anymore." Voldemort's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, but Harry gathered what little was left of his obstinate Gryffindor courage and refused to let his voice waver. "I'm done."

Voldemort continued to stare silently at Harry as the moments ticked by. "What do you mean _exactly_?"

Harry felt relieved that Voldemort broke the heavy silence. "I mean… with the war."

"You're _done_ with the war?"

"Yes. I'm done with the war. With everything," Harry said, receiving a skeptical look from the other man.

"Why?" Voldemort simply said. 'Why? Why does he care why?' Harry thought, surprised that he hadn't been met with an instant Avada Kedavra. "I expect an answer Harry when I ask you a question."

Harry bristled, maybe there was still some fight left in him. "_Excuse me_? I'm not one of your idiotic Death Eaters." Voldemort just looked at him expectantly. "Why? Why does it matter? I'm just done."

"I do not believe you Harry."

Harry's tempered flared. Why couldn't Voldemort just take this as it was? "Well too bad. I give up. I surrender. Whatever you want to call it. I'm just done fighting this useless war."

"Useless?"

"Yes! Useless!"

Voldemort paused for a moment. "What are you doing Harry?"

"What do you mean?!" Harry's voice was rising.

"I do not believe for a moment that the Savior of the Light has just walked into-"

"STOP USING THAT NAME!"

Voldemort stood silently and observed the boy. Harry was standing, tense, hands clenched, panting with the effort of refraining from screaming in Voldemort's face. The perfect picture of a person about to fall off the edge.

"What's going on, Harry?" Voldemort said surprisingly quietly.

"I'M JUST DONE OK? I'M DONE BEING THE SAVIOR! DONE BEING THE FUCKING BOY-WHO-LIVED! I DIDN'T CHOOSE THIS! I DON'T WANT IT!" Voldemort was the flawless image of calm as Harry continued to scream. "I didn't want this! No one asked me! NO ONE! How do they expect a KID to actually win a battle against- against YOU?! I have ZERO magical experience compared to you! WHAT DO THEY EXPECT?! They're putting me out on the front line, putting all their faith in me, expecting me to SAVE THE WHOLE FUCKING WIZARDING WORLD!" Harry panted. "I DIDN'T WANT THIS! I'M NOT DOING IT ANYMORE!"

Harry stood panting, out of breath, a desperate and frantic look in his eyes. He looked more like a scared little boy than a wizard who had just marched into his enemy's grasp.

Moments passed as Harry's breathing slowed and, looking to the ground, he said quietly, "I didn't want this." Harry sighed deeply, suddenly feeling extremely worn out. He muttered to himself, "Why- why couldn't I have just been a _normal_ kid?"

"…because I chose you."

Harry looked up at the other man, slightly surprised at what he saw. He had shown great weakness in front of his 'enemy', and he fully expected Voldemort to be standing there laughing at him, rejoicing in his victory. Instead, the Dark Lord stood soundlessly, simply looking at the boy in almost a- _compassionate_ manner? No. Couldn't be.

"Yeah well, you didn't have to do that," Harry said sarcastically. Voldemort smirked.

Harry looked back to the ground. He had been done with this war for a long time. The Order wasn't getting anywhere, it felt like they were going in circles and the end would always be him dueling Voldemort. The entire war depended on that inevitable confrontation. Dumbledore, The Order, everyone had faith in him, but he knew what would happen. He'd be killed before he could get the first curse off. Although, he hadn't been cursed tonight yet… hell, Voldemort even seemed interested in why he was here. For a man who was hell-bent on killing him, he really did take his time. Voldemort interrupted his thoughts.

"So, that's why you're here, you're giving yourself up? Surrendering?"

Harry looked towards the tall man. He was pale, deathly pale, but he looked stronger than he had in the graveyard, hell, stronger than even in the Ministry not too long ago. Harry had been so terrified those nights. Terrified of losing, of letting down his friends and The Order, terrified of…. dying. What had changed? Here he was, walking into Death's embrace only a little over a year later.

"Yes…"

"You're expecting me to kill you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Voldemort paused. "Do you want to die?"

Harry was taken aback by this question. Did he want to die? Dying meant escape, escape from the madness of being The-Boy-Who-Lived, escape from the pressure of saving everyone, escape from the Dursleys. Dying meant being with his parents. Dying meant being… safe.

Harry's eyes fell. He didn't answer the man's question. He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to say it.

Voldemort stepped closer yet again. Harry was shocked when he felt something cold on his chin. Voldemort had reached his hand towards Harry, using the knuckle of his index finger to raise the boy's head- barely touching him.

Voldemort's voice was low, "Do you want to die, Harry?"

Harry looked into the man's crimson eyes. He didn't want to die… but he wanted out of this life he was given. It was too much. This was the only way.

"I- I don't really know." Harry answered quietly. Voldemort had released Harry's chin and was waiting for him to continue. "I- don't want to live like this anymore, being the Savior, being expected to win the war for everyone. I can't do it…"

Suddenly Harry felt very emotional and felt tears forming in his eyes. 'I can't cry in front of him'_,_ Harry thought with a panic, but he couldn't stop it. He was just so exhausted! He felt the silent tears beginning to run down his cheeks and knew Voldemort could see them too. He was embarrassed, but he couldn't stop. It was suddenly like every emotion he had kept inside for the past few years was hitting him all at once. A sob broke from his throat.

"I just want to be with my parents!" Harry sobbed as he collapsed onto his knees. He rolled his legs out from under him so he could sit on his backside. He gathered his knees to his chest and sobbed. It was way too late for saving face in front of the Dark Lord now, so he just let it go, let it all go. Harry covered his head with his hands as the sobs racked his body.

Voldemort looked down at the boy. Shocked was an understatement of how he had felt when the boy had collapsed into a fit of sobs. He could hear Harry muttering, trying to force sentences out.

"I- I- my pparents- no mo-more- Dursley's- go b-back- Hog- warts- done I'm ddone- no more- ssstop- stop- stop- stop-stop- stop-stop!"

Voldemort wasn't sure what had come over him, but hearing the boy mutter the last word over and over forced him to act. He stepped closer to the shaking form on the ground, not entirely sure of what was happening. Slowly, measuredly, he reached out for the boy, gently placing his cold white hand gently on Harry's head. The boy shuddered.

"Stop stop… I don't w-want tthis…"

Voldemort slowly began moving his fingers through the jet black hair as though stroking an animal.

"My parents- I just want—to be w-with th-them." The two stayed like this, the only noise in the castle were Harry's sobs and mutterings. After a few minutes, Harry seemed to be calming down.

"Take a deep breath," Voldemort finally said, relieved that the boy was getting control of himself. Harry obeyed, trying to calm his breathing. Voldemort immediately removed his hand from Harry's hair, not sure why he had felt the need to put it there in the first place. Was it possible that he felt slightly sorry for the Golden Boy? He knew what Dumbledore could do, knew the wizard could manipulate almost anyone to do as he wished. Merlin how he hated Albus Dumbledore.

Harry removed his hands and raised his head. He was shocked to see Voldemort standing beside him. He remembered feeling a hand in his hair, trying to soothe him. He thought he had imagined it, for surely the Dark Lord would never have done such a thing.

Harry took another deep breath, finally feeling calm again. Calm and utterly exhausted.

"I'm just… so… tired..." Harry said, defeated.

Voldemort waited a moment before saying, "… I know." Voldemort seemed to understand that Harry was not speaking of his current bodily state of exhaustion, but instead of the war, which had sucked every last ounce of the once brave and stubborn Gryffindor from the small body.

Suddenly, breaking the silence Voldemort announced, "I'm not going to kill you."

Harry's head shot towards the man. "What?"

"No. I'm not going to kill you." Voldemort said, the gentleness gone from the voice, replaced by the usual cold demanding sound. "I'm going to keep you alive, Potter. I'm going to show the Wizarding World their crushed hero." Voldemort leaned forward slightly, examining the boy's face as he whispered into Harry's ear, "I'm going to show them their Savior, at my feet, where he belongs." Harry froze. Torture. That's what Voldemort was going to do. Torture him in front of his friends, torture him so that everyone saw.

Harry, for a moment, was terrified. He had expected Voldemort to kill him the instant he walked through the door, not to even have given him a chance to utter a sentence. He had expected the easy way out.

"It's the perfect way to break their spirits… show them their great Golden Boy at my hands."

"Please… please just kill me." Harry begged softly.

"Why? Because you want to be with your _parents_?" Voldemort asked with a mocking laugh.

Harry just let his head fall. Voldemort would use him, keep him, torture him, but maybe, after a while, he would kill him. Voldemort knew the prophesy, knew that one of them would have to die in the end. Voldemort was surely going to enjoy Harry's willing surrender first though. Even with the so-called 'power' that Harry possessed that the Dark Lord did not, Harry would never win. Love would only take him so far. Prophecies had been wrong in the past and could be wrong again, and Harry knew that 'love' was the only reason he had even gotten this far… and even that would fail eventually.

"You belong to _me_ now Harry Potter," Voldemort said. "You belong to me… not your parents, for it will be a _very_ long time before you see them again." Voldemort looked down at the defeated boy and knew he would sure enjoy his prize. He touched the boy again, running his skeletal fingers through the black hair once more, feeling an overwhelming sense of ownership. Seeing the boy at his feet, weakened… it was a rush. Knowing that he himself was the only one who could give Harry what he wanted- death. One corner of Voldemort's lipless mouth turned up into a smirk. Yes, the boy was his.

Voldemort leaned forward once more…

"You. Are. Mine."

* * *

The End?

**A/N: Hmm… not sure if I'll continue on with this? I kinda like the foreboding ending… **


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